Renatus
by BlushLover930
Summary: I'd had another life. I had died—and then been reborn.
1. Rebirth

**AN: Well... guess who is alive! Despite the fact that I haven't updated anything in years, I'm not actually giving up on any of my other stories. As I have said before, writing is just a hobby for me so whenever it is I figure what to do with my stories I will make sure to get them on here. Until then here's a story that I wrote the help of my friend DraconicFeline13. Enjoy! :3**

 **Disclaimer: i do not in any way own anything but me own characters.**

Renatus

Chapter 1 : Rebirth

 _From the moment I was born, I remembered._

 _I remembered my old life, and who I used to be._

(...)

She is one week old, and the world is confusing. Everything is a blend of familiar and yet not familiar: The feel of blankets, the taste of milk, the warmth of her mother's arms. She can hear noises and see blurred images, but she doesn't know what they mean—and yet she recognizes them somehow.

It's almost as if she's heard and seen these things before.

She is three months old, and surrounded by people. She doesn't know who these people are, but her mother is holding her—she can see her face clearly, and hear the sound of her voice—so everything must be okay.

The surrounding noise fades into the background as she stares at her mother's face. One moment she is serene, comforted, content—the next moment she feels a sharp jab of anxiety. A different face has flashed into her mind, one that she instinctively recognizes, and suddenly the woman holding her has become a stranger.

This person is not her mother.

Where is her mother?

She screws up her face and wails. She is completely inconsolable for the next several hours, and neither her parents nor any of the guests in the room can figure out what caused her sudden distress.

(...)

She is eight months old, playing with toys in her crib. She has gotten better at linking sounds with images, and she knows the name of every object she can get her hands on, though she hasn't been able to form any coherent words herself yet.

Her mother enters the room, softly calling out a morning greeting; the infant recognizes her voice and smiles. By now she has made peace with the fact that this person really is her mother, though she often blends together with the "other mother" in her mind.

Her smile fades as her mother starts addressing her directly. It's the same as always; "Good morning, Kyoko"; "How are you feeling, Kyoko"; "Do you want some food, Kyoko"—Kyoko, Kyoko. She squirms, frustrated. She knows the sound refers to her, but the sound is _wrong._

For the past few months she had been ignoring it; it couldn't be her name. They kept getting it wrong. Her refusal to acknowledge or respond to it in any way was mistaken as an inability to understand; her parents had been saying it more and more frequently lately, trying to get her used to the sound. Maybe she just didn't understand that they were talking to her. Maybe there was something about the vocal cue she wasn't picking up on.

After the twelfth "Kyoko" that morning, her frustration peaks. Her mother goes to pick her up, and she utters her first comprehensible sound, her first word:

"Mary."

(...)

 _At first there were only hints—flashes of familiarity, a sense of when something was wrong or different from what I knew before. I remembered everything, but my brain wasn't developed enough to retain most of the information. It wasn't until I was about two years old that I began to fully understand._

 _I'd had another life. I had died—and then been reborn._

 _My opinion on reincarnation based on my own experience is that it is very simple, and random: A body dies, a body is born, the soul moves. Usually when this happens, the mind is wiped clean—prevented from ever fully recalling the memories of its past lives, so as not to damage the infant's brain. The human brain is generally incapable of storing enough memory for two separate lives, though some people can remember bits and pieces of their past selves in dreams. Occasionally, and in the rarest of cases, a mutation occurs in the newborn brain that allows a complete recollection of their past life without harm._

 _Well, almost complete recollection. I don't remember how I died. But to be perfectly honest, it doesn't interest me. It happened, I can't change it, and I've moved on to a new life since then—literally—so does it really matter?_

 _As for the rest…well, the truth is, even though I can remember things about my past life—with perfect clarity, in fact—it doesn't necessarily mean I know how to do them anymore. I live in Japan right now, but in my past life, I was born in America—I can replay conversations I had with people like a video in my head, and I remember what the conversation was about, but the words themselves don't mean anything. That's because in this life, I haven't learned how to speak English. I also know I had a master's degree in Bioinformatics, and I remember all the information I learned, but not any of the skills needed to perform in the field. It's almost as if I'm watching somebody else's life from their perspective, except that I can remember how everything felt, so I know the memories are mine._

 _It can get confusing. And it's very difficult to explain. It was even more challenging for me, as a child, trying to figure out who I really was and why all these other memories were intruding on my life. I grew to accept my name fairly quickly after my initial defiance, even before I knew what had happened. As soon as I understood, the world started to make sense, and I was almost able to cope with the memories of my old life._

 _But the most difficult part was when I realized exactly what world I had been reborn into._

(...)

She is three and a half, and her parents are leaving again.

"Now Kyoko, be good, okay?" Her mother kneels down to give her one last hug. Daddy is already waiting for her outside. "Don't give Yuko any trouble."

"Okay," Kyoko says reluctantly, wishing she could go with them. Yuko has come over to watch her several times before, but Kyoko is shy by nature, still unaccustomed to spending much time without her parents, and hates being left behind.

"Don't worry," Yuko says to her confidently as the door shuts behind her mother's retreating back. Yuriko Sawada is her full name, but Kyoko still has trouble with words more than three syllables long. So to her, she is Yuko. "We'll have fun, right, Kyoko?"

She nods, looking up at her, and only then notices the oval-shaped handbag she has hanging from her shoulder. Kyoko stares at it curiously. Yuko never brought that bag with her before. Maybe there's a treat inside it—a new game, or a snack?

Yuriko notices the toddler's fixed gaze and quickly leans over to take her hand. "Come on. Come with Yuko, okay?" She gently pulls Kyoko towards the room with all of her favorite books and toys. "Let's go read a book together!"

Kyoko spends the next hour or so playing games and looking through picture books. All the while, Yuriko never removes the bag from her shoulder. In fact, whenever she thinks Kyoko isn't looking, she quickly opens the pouch to check on whatever is inside.

"Hey…Yuko?"

The older girl gives a start of surprise, not knowing she was being watched. "Y-Yes, Kyoko, what is it?"

"What's that?"

"What's what?"

"That." She points at the bag.

"O-Oh. Oh!" Yuriko gives a small laugh, casually brushing back a strand of brown hair that had come loose from her hairband. "That's…that's not anything, Kyoko, don't worry. Nothing for you to worry about! Just…boring, adult stuff."

Kyoko nods, somewhat dissatisfied with this answer, but losing interest fast. There are much more interesting things right in front of her—fun, not-mysterious things.

For the rest of the night, Yuriko is unusually distracted. She doesn't check on her bag anymore now that she knows Kyoko is paying attention, but she takes a while to respond when Kyoko asks her a question, and she constantly makes small mistakes during their games. It's almost Kyoko's bedtime when Yuriko realizes she forgot to make her anything for dinner.

"Sorry, Kyoko—really sorry!" Yuriko scrambles to her feet, looking mortified. "I just—Yuko lost track of time, that's all. I don't know what's wrong with me today," she adds under her breath as she flees to the kitchen, leaving Kyoko sitting by herself and staring after her in confusion. Yuko has never acted like this before. But her attention quickly refocuses back to picture she was working on (a lovely drawing of a cat in blue crayon), which keeps her occupied for the next ten minutes or so.

Then she hears a startled cry coming from the kitchen, and a loud crash. Kyoko gets up and races into the hallway, more out of curiosity than alarm, peering around a corner to see what's going on.

Yuriko is standing with her back to the sink, clutching at the counter with both hands. The mysterious handbag whose contents she was so intent on keeping hidden now lies on the counter behind her, wide open and empty. The rice she was in the process of making is now decorating the floor, as is the pan she was frying it in, but Yuriko doesn't seem to have even noticed. Instead she stares, wide-eyed with shock, at the small patterned egg floating in midair directly in front of her.

An egg?

Kyoko blinks. Somewhere, within the deepest recesses of her mind, a memory stirs. She has seen this image before—many, many times.

There is a soft cracking sound, and then another, and then several more; then the egg bursts open, and the shell dissolves into thin air.

Kyoko gapes. A tiny fairy-like creature now floats in the air in front of Yuriko. It has the resemblance of a human child, with dark and flowing waist-length hair, a round pink face, large blue eyes, a flower-patterned dress and no shoes. She stretches and yawns in midair, and when she focuses her gaze on Yuriko, a cheerful grin spreads across her face.

"Hiya!" Even her voice is high-pitched and childlike, though her next words are spoken with the eloquence of a young adult. "About time; I was starting to worry you'd _never_ let me hatch!"

"I—you—" Yuriko stammers. "That voice—in my head—that was you?"

"Of course! Geez, my egg was born weeks and weeks ago; you didn't realize?" The fairy crosses her arms and huffs. "You need to start trusting your would-be self!"

"My—my what?"

"Your _would-be self._ That's me!" She twirls in midair, stopping when she catches a glimpse of Kyoko, still watching from the sidelines. "Oh, look, we have an audience—huh. How come she can see me?"

A voice echoes in Kyoko's head, unbidden. _"Those who are too young to have given birth to their heart's egg can also see them…in other words, the age where precise dreams and desires have yet to form. It may be because they still see the world with a pure heart, through unclouded and unworried eyes."_

"A pure heart…" she whispers.

The fairy tilts her head, puzzled. Then she shrugs and returns her attention back to Yuriko. "Time for a proper introduction—my name is Nami. And your name is Yuriko Sawada!" Her wide, childlike grin reappears, and she floats a few inches closer. "I'm glad we can finally meet!"

Yuriko presses herself tighter against the counter, looking stunned and almost afraid. "But—what—what _are_ you?"

"Weren't you listening?" Nami scowls, her smile vanishing in an instant. "Sheesh, pay attention! I'm your would-be-self, the person you want to be. You wished for me, remember? You wished to become a stronger and truer self. And then my egg was born, but you didn't have the strength to call me out until today. I'm Nami, your would-be self, and I'm what's known as a—"

" _Shugo Chara._ "

It isn't Yuriko that utters the phrase in an awed whisper. Nami spins around in surprise, and Yuriko tears her gaze from the little fairy for the first time, and for a few moments nobody says anything—the two of them staring at Kyoko, Kyoko staring back.

Then Nami begins to smile again, and she nods, her eyes glimmering with approval.

"That's right!"

(...)

 _Shugo Chara. An anime I had watched as I was growing up. A show about discovering the person you really are inside, in the form of small fairies called, well, Shugo Chara. In my past life, I had loved it. Now, apparently, I am living it._

 _I've had a few years to think about this. My theory is that in every version of reality, there are ideas that are born, ideas that go against the laws of the current universe—these are what turn into fictional stories. But maybe…maybe those ideas aren't actually just ideas. Maybe we are only capable of imagining impossible things because they really exist somewhere else, in an alternate universe._

 _I can't explain how this is possible. I shouldn't even be able to remember my past life at all. But if you think about it…we have no way of knowing whether or not alternate realities actually exist. We have no evidence one way or another—except for the testimonies of people. People who will often be dismissed as crazy or delusional for telling their stories, but who are the only source of information we have about these sorts of concepts._

 _People like me._


	2. Friends

**Disclaimer: I do not own Shugo Chara**

Renatus

Chapter 2: Friends

She is five years old, and she has never been so nervous.

It is Kyoko's first day at kindergarten, and she sits kneeling on the scratchy surface of the circle-rug, her hands clasped into tight little fists on her knees. Around her, other children sit in a circle. Some chatter excitedly to each other; others sit in intimidated silence much like Kyoko is doing. A couple of them are still in tears and refusing to join the circle; Kyoko is vaguely aware of the teacher trying to calm them in the background. Through her anxiety, she feels a flash of disdain. She is nervous about her parents leaving her in a strange place, worried about meeting other children her age for the first time, yes; but she would never make such a fuss in front of everybody.

She stares at her hands, still balled up on her legs in front of her, avoiding eye-contact with any of the other kids. She thinks about the teacher to try and calm herself down. Nayoko Katsushika. Short-haired, pretty, with a kind face, who said "Nice to meet you!" to all the children and smiled as they greeted her. _Not Mommy, though, not Mommy_ —and she thinks of her mother, helping her pack all of her school supplies, and of her father, handing her a lunch box for the day. Mommy, giving her a goodbye hug at the door; Daddy, patting her head and telling her she will do well. Tears almost well up in her eyes, but she holds them back. _I will not cry; I will_ not _cry._

"Okay!" The teacher—Miss Katsushika—walks over to the circle, now leading the two formerly sobbing children by the hand. She gently brings them into a gap in the circle and sits them down on either side of her. Then she claps her hands together. "Class has officially started, so let's all get to know each other. We'll go around the room—each of you say your name, and something about yourselves. I'll go first—my name is Nayoko Katsushika, and I am a kindergarten teacher."

She looks down expectantly at the child sitting on her left. The little girl looks up at her with red-rimmed eyes, and Miss Katsushika smiles encouragingly. She looks around nervously at the rest of the circle, who have obediently fallen silent, draws in a shaky breath, and says in barely a whisper: "My name is Kimiko Sugiyama. I like to draw."

"Good job!" Miss Katsushika beams. "Next?"

Kyoko watches and listens as her classmates say their names and a fact about themselves one by one. "Kazuo Kimura. I have a dog at home." "I'm Chouko Tsukino, and I can ride a bike!" "My name is Akemi Sato. I like to sing." "I'm Toru Kitagawa. I have a big brother and two big sisters!" She is almost on the other end of the circle entirely, so she has a while to wait until it is her turn. It is good to have something to focus on other than her nervousness, but after a while her mind begins to drift. She gazes out of the window, not really paying attention anymore. She goes over what to say in her mind, so she won't forget when it's her turn. _My name is Kyoko Tochigi, and I love the color purple._

She echoes the phrase over and over. _My name is Kyoko Tochigi, and I love the color purple. My name is Kyoko Tochigi, and I love the color purple._

"My name is Kukai Soma, and I love sports!"

Her gaze snaps forward. There, right in front of her, sits a five-year-old boy with ruffled brown hair, green eyes, and a huge grin on his face. Kyoko's mind flashes back in an instant, calling up an image of a young preteen in the Seiyo Academy uniform, wearing a blue cape.

 _"The Jack's Chair: Kukai Soma. I'm a sixth-grader, and captain of the soccer team!"_

So this is what Kukai looks like in real life…as a five-year-old. Kyoko stares transfixed, temporarily forgetting her shyness, repeatedly going over images of an anime-Kukai in her head and comparing them with the boy sitting in front of her.

All of a sudden it's too much for her. Too many surprises; too much change. Meeting new people was supposed to be the goal for the day—recognizing old faces from a past life is a step further, one that she isn't equipped to deal with right now. Kyoko drops her gaze, shakes her head, clenches her fists tighter in front of her.

The room suddenly goes quiet. It's her turn. It's her turn, and she is not ready. She can't remember what she's supposed to say.

A few seconds go by. The teacher prompts her gently. "Kyoko? Can you say your full name for us, please?"

She looks up. Everyone's eyes are on her. She looks at Miss Katsushika's kind face, silently encouraging her. She breathes in, breathes out, tries to speak—and promptly bursts into tears.

(...)

 _This is something even I cannot come up with a theory for._

 _At the time, my head was spinning in circles, trying to process this information. I remember struggling to make sense of it, but being too overwhelmed with confusion on top of all the other emotions of the day. My five-year-old brain just couldn't cope with it._

 _Even now, I don't have a single logical explanation. It's one thing to be reborn into an alternate universe and retain all the memories of your past life. It's another thing to be reborn into the universe of an anime you used to watch as a kid. And it's a different thing altogether to be placed in the same timeline as one of the main characters. The one that happened to be my old self's fictional crush._

 _I highly doubt that it's a coincidence. But I also don't know what else it could be. None of the laws of the universe have ever worked so conveniently._

 _Then again, I don't exactly know what the laws of the universe are anymore._

(...)

She is seven years old, standing outside on the soccer field. She and the other first-graders are just learning how to play. Kyoko only half-listens as the teacher explains the rules. She's too focused on trying to remember why she already knows what they are.

 _I…used to watch someone play this game. I watched them all the time._

The teacher drops a soccer ball onto the ground. "I'm going to demonstrate how to properly kick it." He takes a few steps back.

 _Who was it…?_

Time seems to slow down as the instructor runs towards the soccer ball in several long strides. Kyoko watches, transfixed, but it's not the teacher that she's watching anymore—it's someone else. Someone familiar…

His foot makes contact, and the ball goes flying, straight into the soccer net.

Kyoko blinks. She's not at her elementary school's soccer field anymore. She's in a high school stadium, sitting on the bleachers, surrounded by people cheering for the person who just scored. As Kyoko watches, he turns his head, grins, and gives her a thumbs-up.

 _That's right. I used to have a brother…a big brother who played soccer._

Her classmates take turns kicking the ball one by one. When it's Kyoko's turn, she snaps out of her daze and slowly walks forward. She never kicked the ball herself, but she watched her brother many, many times. She remembers how it was done.

 _I can do this._

She takes a deep breath, runs and kicks. The ball goes sailing into the net.

Over the next few days, the first-graders practice playing soccer in gym class. Some are better at it than others. While Kyoko's skill level is truthfully no higher than most of her other classmates, her advanced knowledge of the game makes it appear as though she has a natural talent. She is no more enthralled with sports now than she was in her past, but to everyone else, it is as if she took to soccer like a fish to water; thus when asked to join the junior soccer team, she agrees more out of a sense of peer pressure than because she actually wants to play. Regardless, from then on she is always part of a soccer team, and for a while she is regarded as one of the best players in her year.

After all, she and Kukai are the only ones who were able to get it into the net on their first try.

(...)

 _Any way you look at it, I am an unusual person._

 _I'm the kind of person that blends into the background and is never really noticed. I'm okay with that, for the most part. It makes it easier to overhear things when no one thinks anyone's listening. I have trouble talking to people at times, though. I've learned to cover up my shyness with bluntness, but that can put people off in a different way. Luckily, I still have my best friend Suki, who I met in my early days at kindergarten, and she's all I really need. For some reason she still wants to be around me even after six years. I'm grateful for it, though, so I don't question it._

 _That sounds a bit harsh, but I'm just being honest. Having another set of memories means that I can draw upon knowledge that most people wouldn't have at my age. It sets me apart from my peers, and it's difficult for me to relate to them because of that. But it doesn't mean I'm smarter or more talented than anyone else. I knew the basics of soccer before most of my other classmates, which gave me a temporary advantage. As soon as my teammates mastered those skills, though, they caught up to me pretty easily. They have a passion for the game that I lacked—that I still lack. I play soccer because it's something I happen to be good at and relatively enjoy. They play it because they love it—because it's a central part of their lives._

 _Especially for Kukai. Sports are his life; you can just tell by watching him. If I truly love anything about playing soccer, it's the fact that I can play with him. He's never happier than when he's on the field, and he gives it his all during a game, no matter what. It's…captivating. At least for me._

"Kyoko, your crush is showing."

Kyoko stopped typing and glared at her computer screen, not even bothering to look in the direction of the speaker. "I told you not to read this over my shoulder, remember? I'll let you look at it when I'm done."

"Not that I blame you. He _is_ pretty adorable on the field, after all."

"Go away. I need to concentrate." It was already a lost cause. Images of Kukai kept flashing in her mind with perfect clarity. Kyoko gritted her teeth.

"…and off the field, too, I suppose. And pretty much anywhere, really—"

" _Mary!_ "

Kyoko spun around in her chair just as her Shugo Chara flew several feet backwards and safely out of reach. She let out a little giggle in midair, and Kyoko sighed.

"Man…how could anyone ever put up with more than one…?"

Mary stuck out her tongue. Kyoko rolled her eyes and turned back to her computer, prying her mind away from any and all distractions.

 _The truth is…I don't know if this life is ever going to feel completely real to me. It's difficult to see things as reality when the world I'm living in feels so much like fantasy. My old memories are constantly intruding, and sometimes, more than anything, I want to go back to the way things were. I suppose that's why Mary exists._

 _Mary, my Shugo Chara, was born when I was in third grade…the first time I realized how much I wanted my old life back. Not just that; I wanted to be my old self. More outgoing, more playful…and strange, apparently. I never realized until I viewed it from the outside how strange of a person I was. Not weird, exactly…just unique. It's hard to describe my old particular brand of uniqueness. Still, I missed it. I missed being that person. And that's who Mary represents—the person I want to be; the person I_ used _to be._

 _And as much as she gets on my nerves at times… I really do love having her around._


End file.
